


Why Don’t You Figure My Heart Out

by mimi_chi



Category: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7438771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimi_chi/pseuds/mimi_chi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gokudera was fine struggling to pay rent, even if it meant taking odd and often menial jobs. Until of course Yamamoto decided to be nosy and Reborn decided to meddle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Don’t You Figure My Heart Out

“Haha so you do this every Wednesday?” Yamamoto asked nonchalantly, limbs loose and easy, tucked behind his head as he leaned against the fence next to Gokudera.

Gokudera saw no reason to acknowledge his unwanted visitor, lighting another cigarette and staring moodily across the street, wondering how his life had come to this. He put up with Yamamoto because the Tenth liked him, but once he started butting into Gokudera’s business, he drew the line. The idiot wasn’t content just with stalking him home every day, oh no, he wanted to see inside of it, get help with his homework, and he kept asking _questions_.

Yamamoto’s extremely nosy question about how Gokudera managed to pay rent, Reborn’s perfect timing and hidden entrance his air conditioning unit, and Gokudera’s utter respect for the best Mafia hitman somehow resulted in the baseball idiot tagging along with Gokudera’s assignments.

Doing other Family’s errands was not something Gokudera was proud of, but in order to afford an apartment near the Tenth, sacrifices had to be made. Besides, Reborn went through all the trouble of giving him a recommendation, which was really the only reason that those Families would give him the time of day. Being known as drifter with no loyalties and a plethora of explosives wasn’t something any self-respecting Mafia Family would overlook casually.

“Do you think I should bring my bat tomorrow? Would it help me look the part?” Yamamoto continued unperturbed, looking genuinely thoughtful. It was enough to make Gokudera jam as many pipe bombs into the talkative boy’s mouth and run.

“You idiot, were you not paying attention at all? We stand watch here. That’s it. We don’t draw attention to ourselves and if we see anything suspicious, we report it. This job is so simple even someone like you should be able to do it.” Gokudera snapped, resisting the urge to strangle him.

“So it’s not suspicious that you stand here every Wednesday from five to eight doing absolutely nothing?” Yamamoto asked in an innocent tone, though his gaze had gone sly and predatory. It was annoying how often he did that, acted like a buffoon and then whipped around with a slow smile and some sense. 

Gokudera scowled at him, shaking the phone he had in one hand as if it answered everything. “I shouldn’t have to explain loitering to you.” He was tempted to say more but he didn’t like the look that suddenly glinted in the other boy’s eyes.

“You have a cell phone? What’s your number?” Before Gokudera could laugh at the notion of giving Yamamoto his number, his phone is deftly snatched from his hands. 

“You-! What the hell is wrong with you?” Gokudera sputtered, trying to grab his phone back, but Yamamoto proved to be pretty quick to use both his height and long lanky limbs against him.

“There.” He said happily, handing Gokudera’s phone back to him as if he hadn’t just stolen it, grinning at him brightly. “That way you have my number if you want me to come with you again.” 

Gokudera was pretty sure he’d eat a buffet of Bianchi’s cooking before that ever happened.

\-----

If it hadn’t been for the texts and calls he received from the Tenth, Gokudera would have done away with his phone.

Sadly, and not surprisingly, Yamamoto turned out to have far too much time on his hands. He would text him in the morning asking if he wanted to walk with him to school, text him to let him know if Longchamp had an errand for them, and over any little thing really. 

At first Gokudera made a point never to reply to any of the messages, but that only seemed to increase the volume of them. Coupled with the fact that Yamamoto would also track him down if he didn’t answer, Gokudera found his resistance steadily eroding.

At first there were just innocuous texts about the Tenth or an upcoming job, but soon he found himself being drawn into debates such as ‘who would win in a fight between a grizzly bear and a tiger’ ( obviously a tiger ) or ‘do you think there’s alien life’ ( a resounding YES ). 

“You’ve been texting a lot lately Gokudera.” The Tenth noted, expression soft and curious. “Who have you been talking to?” Anyone else would have been met with a bristle and a glare, but the Tenth was just looking out for him, and so he answered promptly.

“No one, Tenth! Just a co-worker.” Which was true enough, and it wasn’t like Yamamoto, who was sitting between the two of them would do more than cant his gaze at him, smiling leisurely as always.

\-----

Jobs started to pick up once the Tenth won the Battle of the Rings, some of his legitimacy cemented by being recognized by the rings and defeating Xanxus.

The Families who had once barely trusted him to loiter outside of places now requested he try to get more sensitive information. His opinion was starting to be asked for, and even more surprisingly, some people actually listened to it. Reborn-san also scheduled diplomatic meetings for him as well, soft and almost informal meetings with allied families who welcomed him in for some tea and small talk.

More often than not, Yamamoto accompanied him. For the information missions, he got a better price if there are two of them on a job, though annoyingly Yamamoto refused to accept his share of the money. When Gokudera had tried to give it to Yamamoto’s father instead, unsurprisingly he was just as stubborn as his son, so Gokudera had been forced to open a savings account to deposit Yamamoto’s money safely since his pride wouldn’t allow him to touch it.

In the beginning, it had chaffed to have such a clueless shadow, a partner who fumbled along worse than Lambo, who laughed cluelessly and obnoxiously close to his ear each time Gokudera tried to lecture him about his behavior. 

“Do you even remember the name of the Don we just talked to?” Gokudera demanded as they walked down a nearly deserted street, full of closing shops.The sun was sinking below the horizon, casting everything in a soft pink, yellow, and orange light. 

It had been a brief meeting for coffee and cigarettes with a Don from an upstart Family who was smart enough to try and curry favor now before there was a long line in front of him. Gokudera had respected the man for that alone, but there hadn’t been much else to like. The Don had felt like an oily snake, to the point where Gokudera had been tempted to get up and go to the bathroom to wash his hands multiple times, but that would have meant leaving the baseball idiot to his own devices.

Yamamoto tilted his head to the side, brows furrowed in concentration, hands tucked leisurely behind his head.

“It was… Snake something?” Gokudera scoffed, though inwardly was a bit unnerved that they must have had the same impression. If they were going to be the proper right and left hand of the Tenth, it would be best if they became synchronized or experienced something akin to a mind meld, but it didn’t mean that Gokudera was going to enjoy the experience. “Ah… Sal the Snake maybe?”

“Don’t let him hear you call him that, idiot.” He scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Salvatici. Say it until it gets into your thick skull. _Salvatici_.”

There was that odd look on Yamamoto’s face that bordered suspiciously close to ‘fond’ or ‘affectionate’, and it was easier for Gokudera to label it as ‘the result of multiple head injuries’. 

“Salamandar… Salami….” Yamamoto said instead, expression scrunched up in mock concentration, and Gokudera was annoyed at himself that he was starting to see how often Yamamoto teased and joked with others, that he wasn’t just some dumb jock.

“One of these days I swear I’ll put you in the ground myself.” Gokudera grumbled darkly, and was only rewarded with laughter that wasn’t as irksome as it had been at first.

\-----

While the first few years of Gokudera’s life had been spent in the lap of luxury, the ones following had left a far more formative mark on him. He saved and scraped together and went without, the only occasional splurge he would allow himself was clothing and accessories. Even then, he would make sure to thoroughly research his purchase beforehand, compare and contrast it to similar products, and to find it at the place that would offer him the best deal.

But now that money wasn’t so tight, and now that Yamamoto was aware of this, he insisted on having Gokudera spend his money once a week on stupid outings. The Tenth usually went with them, but sometimes Turf Top or the kids tagged along, but sometimes it was just them. 

They would go see the newest sci-fi flicks ( or sometimes even a ridiculous action movie, the bigger the explosions the better ), to try new restaurants ( ‘no one could survive solely on sushi’ Gokudera insisted more than once ), and even day trips to nearby bigger cities so they could act like tourists, bringing back _omiyage_ back for the Tenth and the others. 

Yamamoto even managed to talk Gokudera into going with him to the batting cages, and while his hand eye coordination was top notch, he wasn’t able to hit the ball half as far as Yamamoto could. It had pissed him off, and on their next outing, Gokudera had made him see an artsy foreign film.

“You and Yamamoto have been spending a lot of time together.” Reborn-san had remarked idly one evening when he stopped by to hand over another mission briefing. It had sounded casual enough, but Gokudera was starting to become wise to everything Reborn-san said and didn’t explicitly say.

He unsealed the envelope, taking out the mission information and keeping his hands and gaze level.

“The right hand man is supposed to be the one to gather the guardians.” Gokudera said, the response sounding vague even to his own ears, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he felt like dodging the question. This was Reborn-san after all, he only had the Vongola’s best interests at heart, just like Gokudera. Yet under the most feared hitman’s piercing gaze, Gokudera couldn’t help but want to turn away, mostly because what was being implied brought him to strange, uncharted territory.

“That’s correct.” Reborn said, sounding the slightest bit pleased, but like Gokudera’s answer was still lacking. “If that’s all, I’ll support you then.” The flippant way he said it made Gokudera glance up from the mission briefing, frowning slightly.

“What do you want to tell me, Reborn-san?”

\-----

“You damn baseball idiot! You told Reborn-san that you would die if it meant saving me?” Gokudera snarled as soon as Yamamoto had showed up at his apartment, most likely expecting just another job for them instead of… whatever this was. Gokudera had always been curious as to what sort of ‘good things’ Yamamoto had told Reborn-san after their fight with Gamma, but he had admittedly had other priorities when they had returned to their own timeline than interrogating Yamamoto over it. ( And truth be told, he might have been a bit wary of what sort of things Yamamoto would have said about him, still smarting from that all too precise dressing down of his flaws he had received. )

“Oh, so the little guy told you?” Yamamoto asked casually, looking more amused than anything, which only pissed Gokudera off. It had been a breach of the hitman’s word, if nothing else, and he would have thought that Yamamoto would be more unbalanced by it.

Yet here Yamamoto was, stepping out of his shoes at his usual unbothered and unhurried pace, expression as peaceful as always.

“You shouldn’t be so reckless.” Gokudera lectured, well aware of the hypocrisy of that statement, but the fact that he was doing his best to live these days should be enough to give his words some weight. “Just think of how it would affect the Tenth-”

Yamamoto stepped up from the entrance and into Gokudera’s personal space, making Gokudera scowl as he tipped his head back to look at him.

“I wouldn’t do such a thing carelessly, but I wouldn’t do it with regret if I had to. Gokudera is very important to me.” Yamamoto said, low and solemn, eyes half lidded and amber. It sent a small shiver along Gokudera’s spine, and he had to resist the urge to step back or step forward. There was a heavy tension between them, a strange hyper-awareness that skittered along Gokudera’s skin. It seemed like Yamamoto’s very gaze on him was as hot as any flame.

It stripped him of everything but the very heart of his anger. He swallowed, watching Yamamoto watch the movement, his voice coming out more fragile and soft than he wanted. “Why?”

The question was only met with a small smile, which was answer enough really. But in some things, Yamamoto could be unexpectedly thorough. Like when it came to baseball practice, upholding the honor of the Shigure Soen Ryu, and closing the space between them to kiss Gokudera senseless.


End file.
